A fictional rendition of the story of King Dasharatha from the Ramayana

Dasharatha could hear the mynas and macaques above him mixed with the squawking peacocks. The young king could not remember this large pond and was happy to find such a serene spot. Wearing only a dhoti, he kneeled down next to the water and splashed some on his burnt face.  “This is a good place to rest for the night,” he sighed, as he placed his bow and things down beside the large tree. He squinted around and between the trees feeling like he was being watched.

Consent

In his earliest years Dasharatha was told by the palace’s pundits (priests), “The spirits of the Gods are with you and growing as you grow. They are with you as no man before.”  During his coronation, a hawk was seen hovering over him. This cemented their belief (and therefore his) that he was destined to lead his people in conquering and settling new land.

Dasharatha‘s palace guru (teacher), Bhargava, was responsible for his education, which included lessons on governance, philosophy, and religion. Bhargava also taught Dasharatha how to hunt.

There was one thing that the Guru was unwilling to teach his pupil. A skill that few beings that walked the Earth were privileged to have. Bhargava was reluctant to share this special skill with him because Dasharatha was from the warrior caste and might be susceptible to the improper use of this knowledge. After many years of Dasharatha’s begging and promising not to misuse the skill an old Guru Bhargava finally gave in and taught him. The skill was a special type of archery. By just hearing the sound of the target, no matter where it was, the archer could shoot it. He did not need to see the prey or enemy.

Ever obedient to his guru, as the years passed, Dasharatha did not consider using the special skill outside the presence and watchful eye of Bhargava.

The years passed and Dasharatha became King. Times were good in Armagarh under Dasharatha’s reign, and there was finally peace with the other clans after a long history of bloodshed. During these calm times, Dasharatha, being a warrior, fell victim to his restlessness and often went off hunting alone. He often came upon several large and fearsome creatures, and had the opportunity to kill them, but he never did. Each time he was about to release his arrows he suddenly lost the desire to hunt. He felt the targets were too easy and not a challenge to his superior archery skills. Over the years he became increasingly bored and frustrated that he was unable to engage in a real challenge by practicing the secret skill and began to question Guru Bhargava’s cautiousness.

Ceremonies

Kneeling by the large pond, Dasharatha again began questioning his guru. “That old Bhargava worries too much,” Dasharatha muttered to himself. The young King sighed, and reminded himself of his promise. Picking up a branch, he scratched a circle in the dirt around the tree up to the edge of the still pond. Tossing the branch aside, he stepped into the circle and uttered a few protective prayers under his breath. He flopped down against the tree. Dasharatha watched the sun set between the hills in the distance when he heard some rustling from the path behind him. A bearded Sadhu (holy man) with grey, matted hair walked by him with a walking stick. He wore a spotted deerskin hide and his bag clanked every time he took a step.

The Sadhu stopped and turned to look back at Dasharatha. “I hope you aren’t going to rob me because the Gods would consider that…inauspicious,” he smiled, showing his yellow teeth.

Dasharatha appreciated the old man’s humor. Gesturing to his bow and quiver, he replied, “No Sadhu, I am hunting. Although you are scaring away my animals with all that noise you are making. You seem a little out of the way though. Where are you off to?”

The Sadhu recognized the hunter as the young King of Armagarh. “I am on my way to your palace from our settlements in the south. We have been attacked while performing our sacred ceremonies.”  He looked away from Dasharatha to look at the pond and then looked up at the dusky sky. “Your Highness, you have found a nice spot and if you don’t mind I will also rest here tonight.”

Corruption

Dasharatha started a small fire between the tree and the pond. The old man watched quietly in the orange glow as the King walked around in the dark picking up some more branches to keep them warm.

“That’s a very nice bow your Highness. I imagine that you don’t want for much. Why would you want to hunt?”

Dasharatha dropped the branches into the pile next to the fire. “It’s in my family’s nature to be spirited and determined.”

“Yes, and courageous, I suppose.” The Sadhu continued, “I imagine that as the King of Armagarh, you can do whatever you please, and can have whatever you wish.”

Dasharatha squatted across the fire from the old man. He snapped a few twigs before tossing them into the fire. “That is not the case. I have learned an amazing skill from my guru that I am still not allowed to use.”  Dasharatha explained his archery skill and how his guru made him promise to never use it outside of his Guru’s presence.

The old man got up suddenly and exclaimed, “I am so impressed and blessed to have found you! It is a powerful skill not only for hunting but for protecting our rights to these lands that our tribes have fought so hard for. King Dasharatha, we need you to lead your armies with this great Gods given skill!”

Dasharatha looked steadily at the excited old man. It bothered him how the Sadhu did not avert his eyes. It annoyed him that he put this thought into his mind, he knew that he could easily do this. After many centuries of his people wandering and then arriving in this land, they had finally started to mix and live peacefully with the ancient inhabitants. He could not understand why there were all these sudden attacks by them.

His spies had told him that Ravana, the old King of Lanka was busy with the internal affairs and building of the infrastructure of his own kingdom. He had also heard about the great things that King Ravana did, like the amount of time he spent time in the mountains with yogis learning meditations. Dasharatha did not agree with many of his pundits who insisted that it was their people’s duty, coming from their Gods, to continue on and conquer Lanka along with their Gods.

Leaving these thoughts, he looked away and laughed. “I may be King, but I must always follow my gurus.”

“Your skill would make you a greater king and it is going to waste.”

Waving his hand, Dasharatha replied to the Sadhu, “My greatness will not come from this power alone, but by respecting my role. Besides, there is nothing lost or wasted in this life.”

The old man became quiet and stared into the embers of the fire as if annoyed about how the conversation was going. The pot of water on the fire started to boil and a breeze made the night feel colder.

“We are going to need a bigger fire. I will collect some more wood.” Dasharatha got up and started looking around the large tree. When he had his back to the fire, the Sadhu sprinkled some brown powder into the water from the tip of his fingers. The old man then poured some of the hot water for himself and Dasharatha.

“You probably don’t even know how to perform this special archery skill without your guru with you.”

Dasharatha came back to fire and dropped a few more branches into the pile. He was growing tired and ignored the obviously baiting comment. He took the hot water from the Sadhu and chuckled, “Either way, I am glad to have your company Sadhu. I did not get your name…?”

The old man’s black eyes went from the pot back to fire and he watched the embers glow. “I am also pleased to meet you. I hope you guess my name.”

“What a strange person,” Dasharatha thought to himself. He leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.

Substance

The glow of the fire formed an orange halo in the blackness of forest that surrounded them. The holy man was asleep on his side with the flames lapping against his back. Dasharatha’s head started to nod when he heard the deafening sound of what seemed like hundreds of elephants in the distance. The sounds were then followed by the shouting and marching steps of soldiers, their rattling swords and the beating of drums. His throat tightened. They were the sounds of King Ravana’s army. The fire went out, and the pond’s surface and the top of the large tree caught on fire as streaking torch tipped arrows rained down on them. Dasharatha and the old man both quickly scattered behind the trunk of the large tree.

The Sadhu frantically looked to Dasharatha and nudged the bow and quiver towards him, “Now is your chance to prove that your power works! Show me! Save us and I will tell all the people how a great King cut down King Ravana and his army!”

Dasharatha’s body was drenched from his sweat and his blood boiled with anger. He slowly reached for his bow and felt it at the tip of his fingers. “How could I be such a fool thinking that there was peace?!” he exclaimed.

“It is okay if you do this! Seek refuge in the knowledge of Brahman and perform this action with your heart fixed on the Supreme Lord!”

Arrows continued to rain down all around them and the ground shook harder from the approaching army each second. Dasharatha closed his eyes and forced his hand away from the bow. The old man’s eyes widened, “No! What at are you doing? You are going to doom us all!”

It somehow became very evident to Dasharatha that this was a test. He drew on his teachings and quoted, “Should even my enemy arrive at my doorstep, he should be attended upon with respect. A tree does not withdraw its cooling shade even from the one who has come to cut it.”

A sudden heavy wall of rain poured down for several minutes and put out the fires. Dasharatha sat in the steaming ashes completely puzzled about what was happening and also about why the Sadhu was now nowhere to be seen. Dasharatha looked down at his drenched dhoti and, exhausted, he fell over into the mud asleep.

Temptation

Dasharatha was awoken by the earth rumbling underneath his body. “Is this another attack?” he asked himself while pulling himself up against the wet tree.

The ground beneath him surged into the air until he was coming to the height of the tallest mountains and could see the Gods’ kingdoms nestled in the clouds. For the first time could see his own kingdom’s settlements and outposts on the tip of the land bordering the island of Lanka. He even had a vision of all the kingdoms of the world including those of the snake, bear and monkey people. Their glory stood before his eyes and his jaw dropped in awe.

The Sadhu stepped forward with his walking stick to stand next to him and paused as if also to appreciate the view. “All these shall be yours; you shall be the king of all the earth if you obey me and use your power.”

Dasharatha was shocked and quickly became aware of the absurdity of his surroundings. He pushed the Sadhu to the ground and stood over him, “Leave me and my kingdom. I am King and will serve my role. Go and perform your rituals and superstition elsewhere!”

Instantly, as if awoken from a dream, they were back next to the tree and the large pond. The old man smirked and became quiet again. The sun was now slowly coming up with the sounds of the morning birds chirping. As Dasharatha watched, the Sadhu got up, dusted himself off, and started to walk, disappearing into the forest. Dasharatha looked down to notice the footprints all over the inside of his protective circle and that the Sadhu had left behind his walking stick. “I still don’t know his stupid name,” he muttered.

Regret

After getting some sleep Dasharatha washed himself in the pond and then meditated under the shade of the large tree. The sun was hot again and the macaques of the forest were back to their howling. He smiled as he got up, becoming pleased with himself. He thought about how the Gods probably witnessed his mystical trials with what was probably a demon in disguise. “I can’t wait to tell Guru Bhargava about all this! He might also finally now trust me to use the skill without him.”

Dasharatha bent over to pick up his pot from the ground and drank what was left of the water. He walked up to the pond and started rinsing the pot when he noticed the growing cloudiness within the pond. He took a step back. He started to hear a hum. His reflection remained still as the reflections of the tree and sky transformed behind him into something unworldly. He looked up to see that the sky was still blue. Dasharatha stepped further back, frightened. The entire pond transformed into the deepest darkness, chaos, and what felt like infinite vastness. Knowing this was not his imagination, he felt as though his heart was going to jump out of his chest. The sound of the hum grew louder.

A deep and familiar voice spoke to him, “Oh, so you can see me?”  Dasharatha could not tell if the voice was coming from inside him or from inside the pond. As painful as it was he could not turn his eyes away from the churning images. He felt horror and euphoria at the same time. It was sublime. The voice spoke again, “Would you like me to reveal myself to you?”

No words could form in Dasharatha’s head or leave his lips. He felt that he was being pulled apart into pieces the size of grains of sand, as if he kept watching that he would disappear.  “Was this…?” he thought. It hurt too much. “Please, no!” he finally cried.

The images disappeared; the pond returned to the reflections of the tree and blue sky. The normal sounds of the forest returned. Dasharatha looked at his hands. He then touched his chest and his legs. Oddly he felt fine, like nothing had happened, and cautiously stepped out of his circle feeling exhilaration. “I can’t wait to get back to my palace and tell my wives about these mystical experiences!” Dasharatha thought. He eagerly grabbed his bow and stopped in his tracks.

Cocking his ear up to listen carefully the young king thought he could hear a small deer several miles away. He looked down at the Sadhu’s walking stick and kicked it into the brushes. “Haven’t I proven myself to the Gods? After these trials, isn’t killing a small deer a harmless enough act?” Dasharatha launched his arrow and pushed on into the forest as a small boy with the darkest blue skin watched intently from a branch of the tree.

In a café somewhere a light switch clicked behind a blue paint-chipped door. The bright light which crept out from between it and the worn wooden floor disappears and two men watch from a small table across the room. They quietly sigh, raising their eyebrows at each other as if both feeling a sense of relief that something uncomfortable had finally left the room. Shuffling a little back into rusted metal chairs they jump back into their conversation over espresso cups and crumb covered plates.

There was a difference in age between the two friends. The older man had a stained white beard and his clothes were worn and short on him. While he lit and puffed on his wood pipe, he casually spoke about his children back at the village from where he was visiting and his younger friend was also from. The tidily dressed young man wore a collared white shirt, trousers with suspenders and had a stylish coat hanging off the back of his chair. He listened to what his friend was saying like an intellectual with his sharp facial features and tiny spectacles that he pushed up with his fingers. He was a student at the local university and besides the two of them the decrepit European style café where he would normally come down to study in was empty. This was not unusual tonight due to the recently enforced curfew and the fact that this small brick building that he also lived in was on a quiet snow packed side street. The old man paused for a moment to gently tap the ashes out of his pipe against the metal table onto the wooden floor. The young man seemed to have found a chance to speak when the old man’s eyes darted over to the entrance of the café. The front door creaked open ringing the tiny bells that hung from them.  As the door slammed shut the old man stroked his beard and looked the young man straight in the eyes. The young man whose back was facing towards the entrance became nervous, looked down and folded his hands on the table.

A couple who looked like they had just come from the theater or maybe a nice restaurant in town stood at the entrance of the small café. From their car parked in the front and the way he was dressed, the large middle aged man was most likely an Official for the region. Officials or soldiers were the only people who would be out past the curfew. He brushed the snow off his coat shoulders with his gloves while inspecting the room and his wife stood behind him rubbing her hands from the cold. Both seemed relieved to have found something open and warm at this time of night. While his wife took her tiny black hat off her head to remove the snow from it, her husband looked directly at the men who surprisingly hadn’t acknowledged them. The young man continued to look down at the table while the older man stirred his coffee looking seemingly out the window behind them at the snow falling. The woman looked up from her hat to see the men, felt uneasy and suggested to her husband that maybe they should go somewhere else to ask for directions. Also from her husband’s mood from the recent political climate and the way he was taking the time to look the men over she knew that there was potential for trouble. Ignoring her, the man walked up to where the two men were seated.

He immediately focused on the young intellectual and hunched down slightly to try to get a better look at his face. After pausing for a second he firmly stated who he was and asked the young man if he could give him directions back to the main road. The young man remained silent and the old man continued to look past him out the window while stroking his beard. The Official looked satisfied as if he had figured something out and then asked the young man again, this time louder and closer to his face.  This almost seemed to have woken up the old man who looked up at the large man as if seeing him for the first time. Noting his agitation, he smiled and explained that his friend was just studying here. He then turned his attention to the young man and asked him to kindly provide directions to the Official since he was more familiar with the area than he was. The young man had only a few words leave his mouth when the Official interrupted him to harshly ask the old man what his young friend was still doing here. He didn’t wait for a response before telling the old man that he was also a traitor and would have no problem reporting the two of them.

The young man went quiet and the old man peered up at the Official stroking his stained beard, this time pensively. He sighed and apologized that their presence here upset him. He told the Official that there was not much he could do to help him with that but that he did notice however that he and his wife were lost and that he could for now help them by telling him where they were. The man’s wife continued to watch from the entrance hoping her husband would let the situation go so that they could leave. She repeated that they should go and again he ignored her. He briefly wondered to himself how he forgot that they were lost. He decided for now the old man was right and that he would inform the soldiers as soon as they got back onto the main road. He straightened up and asked the old man where they were. The old man again picked up his small cup and in a hushed voiced said a few words before he took a sip. The Official became startled as if by a loud noise. He then quickly turned his head as if he had suddenly noticed something behind his wife. He stood fixated looking past her through the window onto the street behind her. Turning ghostly pale his eyes turned to her. She didn’t hear what the old man had said and nervously looked behind her to see what her husband was looking at but there was nothing there but the falling snow and their car. She called over to him asking what he was looking at while not wanting to leave where she was standing. She was hoping that whatever frightened her husband would make him have the sense to walk over to her to leave the café.

The old man slowly pulled himself up to barely stand up by his chair while it screeched against the floor. He gestured to the Official to come closer and he began murmuring into his ear with his thin lips and pointed at the wooden blue door. The man started shaking, glanced at the door and then back at his wife. The young man who was still sitting looked up and reached back into his coat pocket.  He pulled out something bright and metallic which he gave to the old man, who then proceeded to place it in the Official’s hand. He then nodded to him to make his way towards the door across the room.  While he began slowly walking across the cafe his wife this time took a few steps towards them and he urgently gestured with his other hand to stay where she was. Not looking back once he continued until he reached the door and turned the iron knob to open it.  All there was behind the old solid door was a small empty dark closet except for the single metal light fixture hanging from the ceiling that was missing a bulb. He looked down at what was in his hand at what turned out to be a simple light bulb and then back at the old man with a look of fear and confusion. The old man gazed down at the floor and nodded once more encouraging him to continue. They all watched the man from behind as he stood in the dark closet, reached up to the hanging fixture and carefully screwed in the light bulb.

When he was done, not looking back he closed the door behind him. A few seconds passed before a click could be heard from behind the door while no light appeared from the space underneath it. The old man sat back down. A few more seconds passed as the woman not believing or understanding what she had just seen stormed over to the two men demanding to know where her husband went. The young man looked up at her with soft eyes. He began explaining to her where she was while reaching again back into his coat pocket. While listening to the young man, she noticed some movements from the street and turned her head to look. Outside the café window sitting in the darkness and falling snow was their car engulfed in orange flames with the silhouettes of two people in the front seat. Shadows of soldiers and locals could also suddenly be seen running past the café window against the flames. With the sounds of cries and gun fire resonating in her head, she slowly turned back to face the two men. As she was doing so from the corner of her eye she thought she saw against the glowing wall behind them what looked like the shadow of wings.

A result of the deregulation was to create a partially open market (the California Power Exchange) to encourage independent energy producers to participate in California’s power market, and therefore increase the supply of energy offered and hence lower prices. The legislation was based on the expectation that the big three would cut their wholesale costs and increase their retail profit by selling off their old and expensive power production plants. And as well act as middlemen, purchasing electricity on the open market where newer companies with their new plants dominated.

The big three power companies started by first placing a ceiling on rates they could charge consumers until they sold off their capacity to produce electricity. They competed with an increased number of large out-of-state wholesale electricity producers and suppliers, including Enron and began the process of selling their productive assets so that they that they could lift the cap on their retail price. In all they sold off about 40 percent of their productive capacity.

Deregulation Jacks up Prices!

SDG&E completed divestment of its power plants, and thus began the first test of a deregulated market for selling retail power. Instead of wholesale prices decreasing, they skyrocketed statewide by 2000. The free market was working just the opposite of what its advocates had predicted.  Edison and PG&E still owned their plants and thus could not raise their rates. Their position was even worse than that of SDG&E because the wholesale cost of energy had risen to a price greater than the retail price at which they were allowed to sell, and they were not supposed to pass the increase along to consumers. As a result, they had to borrow heavily to fulfill their contracts. Instead of letting the deregulated market do its thing and let a more competitive company step in, PG&E lobbied California’s legislators for a 40% rate increase and two rounds of bailouts courtesy of PG&E customers. The utility’s ratepayers were to pay for the company’s mistake through mandatory fees while California legislators continued to guarantee the company 11% profit margin and therefore they didn’t have to divert any of that cash towards paying its own debt.

The energy crisis became very serious and very public in the summer of 2000 when California’s reserve supply fell to 5 percent of need and the following month PG&E instituted a number of planned rolling blackouts. This was occurring just as Sunlaw Energy Partners was preparing its application to build the 550-megawatt Nueva Azalea power plant in South Gate, a part of Los Angeles County which was already burdened with polluted air. Supplies were dangerously low in part because many out of state power companies had decided to close down plants for extended maintenance during a period of California’s peak demand. At the time, the power crisis was attributed to rapidly rising demand and inadequate supplies, therefore in the summer of 2000 when Sunlaw Energy Partners prepared to move forward with its plan it was the expert and popular opinion that more power plants were desperately needed. Environmentalists and advocates of clean and green sources of power were pretty well shut out.

Low-income, working class, Latina/o community take the first hit, always

In 2001, when California seemed to be in the midst of its worst electricity shortage ever, some three hundred high school students and their parents marched from South Gate High School in southeast Los Angeles County to a meeting of the city council to tell their city council to tell their elected representatives that they did not want the power plant built near their city. Their goal was to get the power plant onto the council’s agenda for discussion and to get the council to take a nonbinding vote on whether it supported the power plant. The city of South Gate was a predominantly low-income, working class, Latina/o community of largely new immigrants. One of their messages was corporations deliberately dumped and sited toxic industries in these low-income communities of color believing that  the residents couldn’t fight back. The council’s decision had no authority but several weeks later South Gate voters defeated by two to one a non-legally binding referendum supporting the power plant. The California Energy Commission decided to stop the project.

Direct democracy put to use by lobbyists!

On June 8th in a state wide ballot in California, voters faced an initiative called Proposition 16 officially described as: “Imposes New Two-Thirds Voter Approval Requirement for Local Electricity Providers”.  A ballot proposition is a proposed law that is submitted to the electorate for approval in a direct vote. It may take the form of a constitutional amendment or an ordinary statute. Direct democracy by way of a ballot proposition gave California’s citizens a way to bypass their representative government and restore absolute sovereignty to the people. Currently it is also giving a way for the rich and the corporates to write their wishes directly into the highest level of the law by convincing people into voting their way using massive amounts of cash on political strategists, lobbyists, professional signature gatherers, astroturfers and political ad campaigns. The initiative was sponsored and paid for solely by one company, Pacific Gas and Electric. In PG&E’s $35 million advertising campaign, they called it the “taxpayers Right to Vote”. If it had been enacted, the constitutional amendment would have required local governments to obtain the approval of two-thirds of their voters before providing electricity service to new customers or expanding such service to new territories. Proposition 16 would have sabotaged existing law allowing communities to choose alternatives to PG&E, including a movement to enable municipalities to offer renewable green power. It was defeated with 52.6% of the voters voting no.

Given it starts me reading,

Letters on a page open up with meaning,

With someone else’s words who was hoping,

To let others know what they were thinking.

My friends usually will be thumbing,

Might see how I’m trying to be living,

Through someone else’s thoughts that I have been reading,

Of paths that I have never taken.

In and out of boxes while my situations are changing,

A few will still remain with me brown and fading,

Memories often end up on other people’s shelves,

Covered in dust and

Forgotten.